"You utterly frigid bitch! No wonder you don't have a wizard of your own! You'd freeze them stone cold dead! When will you learn that a wizard wants a warm, willing witch in his arms and not an ICE QUEEN!" Ron Weasley screamed!
"And you would know," snapped Hermione Granger.
"Excuse me?" retorted Ron, flecks of spit appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"Let me repeat myself, Ronald Bilius Weasley! And! You! Would! Know!" Hermione replied vehemently.
"Just what do you mean by that?" barked Ron.
"Exactly what I said! Did you take me for a fool...that I wouldn't find out that you were shagging all those groupies? They bragged about it far and wide. And IF you think you are having ME as well as all those slags, well you better think again, YOU DIRTY LITTLE WEASEL!" Hermione screeched! "And I do mean LITTLE!"
"You vindictive BITCH! It's past time that some wizard takes you in hand and shows you your proper place in the bottom of wizarding society! You should be grateful that I even looked at you, much less considered relieving you of your bloody cherry!"
Slap! That was the sound of Hermione's hand making contact with Ron's face. He looked absolutely stunned...and then reached for his wand! "I never ever want to see your ugly mug ever again!" she emphasized emphatically.
"That's enough, Weasley! Move on...NOW!" A voice said firmly! "Or do you want me to force you to move on?"
A very irate Weasel looked up...way up...into the ice blue eyes of Thorfinn Rowle...and said, "You frigging bitch...you wouldn't give it up to me but you were more than willing to spread your legs for a Death Eater? I bet you were letting Malfoy shag your withered, disease-ridden pussy!"
"Which is it, Weasel? Is Granger a virgin ice queen or a disease-ridden slag? You can't have it both ways?" a voice interjected snidely.
Before the Weasel could answer, he heard, "I believe I ***SAID*** THAT'S ENOUGH! One more word out of your filthy mouth and I will shut it for good! Now get your arse out of that chair and go home! OR ELSE!" Rowle growled.
Ron looked around the Leaky Cauldron. All eyes were on him and Hermione...and at an upset Thorfinn Rowle who was towering over him. All those muscles, he thought. They could pulverize him. And...Rowle wasn't alone either. On one side of him was Dolohov and on the other side? Oh shit...he thought he had heard the dulcet words of a disdainful Draco Malfoy...and here he was in the flesh!
There was no way he could tackle all three...and looking around, he couldn't see any friends in the crowd who might help him. Instead, he saw glittering, angry eyes...angry on behalf of Hermione Granger. Oh shit, he thought. There's Rita Skeeter. This is going to be in the Daily Prophet in the morning! His mother was going to skin him alive.
And so...the Weasel did the only think he could do...give a dirty look at Rowle and then he scurried away, leaving a sobbing Hermione behind!